After Hours
by ImAGiver
Summary: After Adam is attacked by a gunman, he gets protection from an unlikely source, Det. Don Flack. Now Adam is tasked with finding the shooter's MO -As well as surviving the ups and downs of living with a prying detective. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Title: After Hours

Summary: After Adam is attacked by a gunman, he gets protection from an unlikely source, Don Flack. Now the Adam is tasked with finding the shooter's MO -As well as surviving the ups and downs of living with a prying detective. Please R&R!

Disclaimer: Don't own!

To fwuzzfwuzz, youda-youda best.

XxxxXXXxxxX

Adam grabbed his soda and nodded at the owner of the hotdog stand since any verbal communication would surely be lost among the roaring screams of the other concert attendants. The lab tech, who was happy to say had the night completely off due to a slow day at work, inhaled the fresh air easily.

It was good to be out of the cage.

Not that working at the CSI lab was all that torturous. In actuality, he'd much rather be cooped up doing experiments all day then breathing this so called "real, oxygenated air" any day. -Yep, and Adam would be the first to admit it: he was a dork.

Still, after a week of trying to solve a particularly grueling case, Adam decided it was time to take one of these rare nights off and do something for him. When he heard Weezer was in town, it was pretty much a no-brainer of what he was going to do.

To top it off, his old friend from college, who had ran the university's radio show with him, had got him backstage passes to meet the band. The other pass had been stowed away in his pocket after all of his friends, i.e. coworkers, had declined meeting the legendary band with him. Apparently, none cared much for rock music.

With a shake of his head, Adam bit back the feelings of loneliness and set his sights on enjoying himself tonight. Anyway, he should be used to this "solo thing" by now. His coworkers were all very busy people and probably had a hundred more important things to do than attending a rock concert with a person they simply worked with. Again, Adam was forced to readjust his depressive tendencies. Living in New York sometimes did that to him. Although he'd be surrounded by millions of people, it didn't make him feel any less stranded.

Adam began shuffling his way towards the front, trying to regain ownership of his seat through the swarm of people yelling and convulsing with the roaring guitar and drum beats. Whoever decided assigned seating would take in a rock concert at a park was completely delusional. By the time Adam actually made it to the front, he had lost his soda and his breath from trying to squeeze past nearly a thousand individuals. Adam shook the thoughts away of how he'd definitely have to start some sort of fitness regime in favor of enjoying the band currently on stage.

The band was good and their main singer had a strong set of lungs, making him perfect for the clamorous world of rock and roll. After one complete song, Adam was seriously considering picking up their CD at one of the overcrowded tables, but he couldn't see their name. It was labeled on the front of the drum set yet the words kept morphing together every time Adam tried to make it out. The lab tech wondered if it was some sort of special effect. Then he felt the beginning signs of a headache form. –Oh terrific!

He forgot his glasses.

Actually, he forgot his contacts; he simply misplaced his glasses somewhere from when he arrived to where he was standing now. Shouldn't be too hard to locate though, right?

Adam sighed. Who was he kidding? If he left it anywhere, the chances of it not being crushed to a fine powder were pretty slim. Still, the scientist pondered where he last had them on. He certainly had them on when he first arrived. Then he went to the bathroom- Right! He washed his face in there. But where had the bathroom been? Adam felt truly disoriented for a good five minutes before remembering his college buddy Rob had given him a small tour of the place.

The auburn-haired young man began making his way past a few more crowds of people before finally arriving at the building backstage. He flashed his badge at the burly security guard who unlocked the double doors for him without further interrogation. Once the doors shut and locked behind him, Adam felt lost among the long set of doors and hallways. People bustled to and fro, wearing clear signs of wanting to be unhindered by questions of lavatory locations.

Adam pursed his lips. He'd find it himself… Eventually.

Plodding around a labyrinth of hallways, he stopped suddenly at the call of a female voice. "Getting away from the sound too?" Adam turned from his anxious search to find the speaker, wondering if the person was talking to him in the first place. She was, evidently, because she was looking at him with her slender brown eyes and kind face.

"Uh-" Adam said, as most of his sentences started out with that very sound. The lab tech managed a nervous smile, never very graceful with social interactions, especially those involving the opposite sex. "Yeah, how'd you know?"

She gave him a thin-lipped smile and shrugged. "You're not lucky enough to wear one of those cool headsets."

Adam smiled again, one of his other conversation adaptors that he didn't have to be embarrassed about. The two began casually talking about the concert and what they were doing there. The girl was small and had a quiet presence about her that loosened Adam up considerably.

"So what brings you down here?" The girl, who Adam learned was called Christine, asked.

"I-uh-I lost my glasses in the bathroom. And now... I can't find the bathroom," Adam admitted with an embarrassed grimace and slight flush. Christine laughed, making the young scientist redden further.

"Don't worry about it," She assured, her eyes shining with reminiscence. Adam looked up hopefully. "I used to lose my glasses all the time. Lost 'em so much now I don't even bother wearing them."

Adam gave her one of his famous chuckles, and the small young woman nodded her head in the direction of an east hallway. "There's a restroom just down here. Since it's the only one I saw, you're glasses are probably hiding there." Adam nodded in agreement, and the two walked at a slow, comfortable pace towards the restroom.

The walk gave Adam time to uncover more about Christine, who preferred to be called Chriss more than anything else, and spend time with the genuinely kind-hearted young woman, who worked at a Technology Network in the Lower East Side. "It's a tough job. Long shifts, bad food, and lots of insistent clients- But somebody's gotta help the computer illiterate somehow."

After Adam divulged his area of expertise, Christine expressed her curiosity in the field, which left Adam shaking his head in bewilderment. "I've never met anybody who ever thought examining the different threads on a coat to be 'interesting.'"

Christine shrugged and offered him a tight-lipped smile. "Well, there are all those shows about it on Discovery channel. You guys must be doing something right. I don't see anybody making documentaries about the graveyard help desk at a technology network."

Adam puffed out his lips and nodded. "You're right. My job is way cooler." The scientist mused, breaking out in a grin and making Christine punch him instinctively on his bicep. Adam winced and grabbed his wounded arm. "Ah! Can you check if I have a sign on my back that says it's cool for people to abuse me?"

"Hmm… I think it's on your forehead." Christine laughed. Before Adam could facetiously smooth a hand over his face, there was a loud smack of a doorknob hitting the wall at high-speed. The two people in the hallway turned their gazes forward at a dumpy man with a sweaty face and short, black-cropped hair. All other descriptions were ignored as the only thing the two concert-goers noticed was the dripping red nine-inch blade wielded in his right hand.

Staring at the shocked couple with a carefully trained expression, the man quickly moved his hand to the back of his pants. Adam's instincts and experience with criminals ignited his senses, causing him to yell, "Move! He's got a gun!" at the top of his lungs. Two bullets rang in the air just as Adam pushed the young woman through a nearby door, both of them crashing to the hard ground with a thud.

Christine lay on the floor, completely stunned. Demanding yells were heard down the hall from where the shooter was, but the sounds of a chase told her it was too late for them to catch the man. Thankfully, she wasn't injured. Her mind would probably be pretty traumatized from being shot at because this was as exciting as life got for her. The only physical harm seemed to be that she was having problems breathing, but that might have had something to do with the man currently on top of her.

She grunted as she attempted to push the scientist off of her small frame. But Adam wouldn't budge, causing her to look up quickly into his twitching features. His eyes were slack, only slightly opened and even that seemed to be expending some energy for the young lab tech. His mouth was moving, but words failed to escape his parted, pink lips. Christine studied him anxiously, her forehead wrinkled with worry.

"Adam?" She enquired, her voice tinged with urgency. The stress only doubled when she felt a moist sensation on her arm. A liquid was leaking directly from Adam's shoulder. "Oh my-" She glanced down at the wound, tears misting at the sight, before returning her fretful gaze to the man on top of her.

"A-Are you all right?" Adam asked, his voice rough with tiredness. That was it. That was all he could get out before he couldn't keep his head up any longer. Adam let it fall between the crook of Christine's neck and shoulder. The last thing he heard was her crying for help and the sound of more footsteps.

XxxxXXXxxxX

The bed made an annoying rubbery crackle every time he moved. It didn't help that he was limited in finding any comfortable positions with his arm hung up in a sling around his neck, making sleep altogether impossible at that point. He wanted to go home, find a new way to suppress the memories of last night, and get on with his life at the lab.

He felt fine anyway.

The bullet hadn't pierced any organs or broken any bones. In fact, the doctor told him he'd be good to take the sling off in a couple of weeks. Thank God because working with lab equipment wasn't a one hand gig.

It was early in the morning now. Now that the doctors had gotten a word with him; it was time for the police to come in. Adam was very familiar with the "victim's routine." He shuddered, sending a stabbing pang down his aching shoulder. He was a victim. He hated how just the word sounded. So wrong. So… Pathetic.

The auburn-haired scientist was pulled from his gloomy reflection by the sound of the patient room doors opening. At first wary of seeing men in police gear, Adam's eyes softened at the sight of Detective Donald Flack, in his trademark trench coat, and the other man's on-again/off-again partner Detective Danny Messer, who had abandoned his usual white wife-beater in favor of a beige polo and jeans.

Both men looked relieved and happy to see Adam up and breathing, which brought a small and pleasant smile to the lab tech's face. It felt like ages since Adam saw people he actually knew.

"How ya holdin' up?" Danny interrogated, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest at the foot of the bed while Flack seated himself in the chair beside Adam.

"Good," Adam said in a hoarse voice. His throat was on fire and he hadn't noticed until the single word escaped him mouth. Danny was swift in filling up a pink cup with a pitcher that Adam hadn't noticed before. The lab tech nodded at the older man in appreciation before downing the too-small cup. "Just got shot last night. What's going on with you guys?"

Evidently, humor wasn't something the two detectives were grasping that day since both of their expressions twisted into those of concern and disdain at the jocular comment. Adam took careful note of this, deciding it best to just stick with the bare basics that morning.

"That's actually what we came to talk to you about," Flack said, readjusting himself in the chair to pull out his notebook. Oh God, Adam was being questioned. He felt so out of place- As if he had just stepped into an alternate dimension where the world was opposite from how it should've been. This wasn't like the sci-fi novels he regularly escaped to though. This was his life, and just knowing that left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Adam? _Adam_!" Blue-eyes looked up, surprised to see Danny's forehead wrinkled in concern. Adam looked away, crap, had he just zoned out? It hadn't even felt like he was dazed for that long. He shook his head.

"Sorry, the-uh-drugs. They've-They've got me kind of out of it." Adam tried to the best of his ability to explain. He chanced a peak at his two friends. Danny still looked concerned and unconvinced, but Flack masked his concern with an understanding expression.

"I know how that gets. When I got in my accident, the drugs had me zoned out of my mind. Thought I was looking at myself from the outside." Flack recounted. Adam caught on to what he was doing. The detective was simply trying to validate Adam's feelings so he would tell him more stuff. Too bad Adam sucked at blocking these psychological maneuvers.

"Yeah," Adam agreed, for some reason feeling comforted by Flack's little story. "So, what do you need to know?"

Flack opened up his little notepad and began asking, "Did you get a look at the man who shot you?" After a moment of thought, Adam nodded, the memory seared in his mind like a deep scar. Without further prodding, Adam gave a description of the man based on what he could remember from the night before. Flack dutifully wrote each defining characteristic. When Adam came to the part about the knife, he paused.

"It was dripping blood." He stated slowly, looking up at Danny who gave him a pensive stare. Danny and Flack exchanged glances and Adam swallowed, daring to ask the question burning in his throat. "Who's- whose blood was on the knife?"

Danny cleared his throat. "It was a man, who worked in the sound department at the concert." Adam's mind immediately jumped to one person.

"Rob Hartnett?" Adam whispered, his wide eyes pleading with Danny to decline the name.

"No." Danny said evenly, allowing Adam to salvage his last bit of sanity. If it were his friend, then that would mean someone had made it their entire business to ruin Adam's life. "His name was Stanley McDonald. He did work with Rob though. Hartnett's one of the guys on our list we need to look into. How do you know him?"

Adam almost didn't catch the question since he was flooded with relief about still having a friend. "Uh-He was a friend- A guy I hung out with in college."

Flack nodded, scribbling down the fact in his notebook. "What else do you remember from last night?"

Adam blinked, rubbing a hand on the flimsy, blue hospital gown. Thankfully the nurses had given him some pajama bottoms or he would be feeling very exposed right now. "Uh, well after I pushed Chriss into the room-"

"Hang on a second," Danny interrupted unashamedly. "Who's this Chris guy?"

"She was there with me at the scene. We crashed through the room to avoid getting hit by the bullets." As Adam explained this, Flack had shot up from his chair, his cell phone to his ear at lightning speeds. Adam stopped what he was saying to gape at the other detective. Danny walked closer to Adam, his face serious with a hint of urgency. "What's-What's going on? What happened to her?"

"Not what, where," Danny elaborated. "There wasn't any indication that there was anyone else at the scene."

"What? Are you saying I just… Made her up?" Adam asked, his voice breaking slightly at the incredulity of the situation. Flack was in the corner of the room, spouting orders to get an ID on a Christine.

"Who is she? What was her full name?" Danny said, blatantly ignoring Adam's previous questions and handing out a few of his own.

Adam's head was spinning with the new information. Why would she have fled? Was she somehow guilty? Danny looked ready to slap the questions out of him, forcing Adam's bustling brain to focus on the present. "She-uh-Her name was Christine. I didn't get her last name. She was about 5'3 with long black hair and freckles. She said-She said she worked at a-uh- technology help desk in the Lower East Side. But that's it; that's all she told me."

Danny nodded and Flack snapped his phone shut, his face meaning business. "My boys got a 20 on her address. We'll meet 'em down there and take her in." He said the last part solely to Danny, much to Adam's chagrin. The lab tech wanted badly to just talk to her and ask her why she would take off like she did, but he knew asking the two detectives for a ride would be futile, not to mention moronic.

"Right," Danny said, turning back to Adam. "We'll give you an update on her once we get back. Hang in there."

Adam sulkily nodded, a gesture that went completely unnoticed by the two detectives that rushed out of the room, once again leaving Adam alone with his disturbing thoughts. With tired conviction, Adam switched on the TV mounted above the bathroom's door opposite him in an attempt to distract himself.

Nothing was on in the early Saturday morning except news and all the cartoon shows. He had settled on news for a few minutes whereupon he encountered a story about the shooting, then immediately tuned it into SpongeBob. The character's obnoxious laugh was better than looking at footage of him being rushed to the hospital.

Just as he was managing some amusement at the porous character's high-jinks, Mac and Stella entered, bearing purchases from the downstairs gift shop. The gruff detective wore a small smirk whilst the bouncy-haired woman had broken out into her beautiful grin. She set the gray bear holding a "Get Well Soon" heart and card on Adam's bedside table.

"Hey thanks," Adam greeted bashfully, something he couldn't help being around the striking detective. Stella nodded and laid a hand atop Adam's unkempt hair.

"Are you doing okay?" Stella asked, looking deep into Adam's averted gaze. He glanced up at her.

"Yeah-uh," He cleared his throat. "I'm getting there. Should be back in the lab in no time. Sure there's a lot of evidence that needs poking and prodding."

Mac smirked. "The evidence can wait, Adam," And even thought the statement was made good-naturedly, Adam couldn't help feeling reprimanded. "Just focus on getting better."

Adam shook his head in agreement. "Right, of course. Sorry, boss."

Stella removed her hand from Adam's head and set it on his arm, her eyes turning sympathetic. "We heard about your friend Christine. Were you close?"

"Oh, Christine and I? Uhh… Not exactly." Adam quickly scratched the back of his neck. "I mean, we could be… Potentially, you know?"

Stella smiled and nodded. Mac's phone went off and he smiled at them apologetically as he answered it. "So tell me more about her? What did she do?"

Adam laughed, reminiscing on their short but sweet conversation. "She-uh-worked at the help desk of this technology network. Had to wake up at 2:30 so she was barely functional by the time the afternoon rolled around."

"She sounds like a bit like someone I know." She arched her perfectly-sculpted eyebrows pointedly at him. The two of them shared a hearty laughed, but Adam's smile faltered and formed into a curious frown at the look Mac was giving him over Stella's shoulder. A cold chill ran down the young man's spine.

Something was wrong.

"Yeah, sure, I'll tell him, Flack." Mac said through gritted teeth, unusually reluctant. "Get over here with Danny and we'll start making arrangements." Mac shut his phone and gave it a hard look, wanting to obliterate it in a thousand pieces. Not that it would help any; Christine would still be dead.

Despite never even hearing anything, Adam had guessed what happened before Mac said a word. "He got her, didn't he?"

Mac couldn't look at the young man. "I'm sorry." As the grim silence filled the room, a hurt grew inside Adam's chest, forcing him to take heavy, wheezing breaths. The lab tech's eyes welled slowly with tears, one spilling down his cheek. Stella shook her head, pursed her lips, and quickly threw her arms around the heartbroken boy's neck. Adam sat completely still, only focusing on breathing.

How did he find her?

Adam felt numb. He stared straight ahead, face emotionless aside from the tears that leaked unnoticed from his eyes, streaked across his cheeks, and dripped into his lap. Stella pulled back, staring worriedly at the detached young scientist in her arms.

"Adam?" She said, her eyebrows creasing together in worry.

"I need a minute," He told the two detectives, his voice was rough and breathless. He turned to them, giving them a level look that was uncharacteristic of the perpetually nervous lab tech. At their right, Mac nodded in understanding and laid a hand on Stella's shoulder. She simply stared deeply into Adam's eyes, reluctant to leave his side.

"We'll wait outside," Mac stated, trying to get Stella's attention. The curly-haired woman looked down and nodded before turning to leave. Straight after the door shut, Adam pulled the IV machine closer to him and began pressing the various buttons on its screen. The drip suddenly stopped up and the drugs halted their circulation through his veins.

This was the only thing he could come up with given the circumstances. His heart accelerated, the tightness in his shoulder making itself known, more and more, as it ebbed its way across his chest. The emotional pain proved too much to deal with, especially since physical pain stood right beside his bed, a few button clicks away.

His nerves were on fire now and his eyes clenched shut, nostrils flaring with each short, pained breath he released. Adam fisted his blanket in his hands, his teeth grinding against each other with hard force. The post-surgery wound almost hurt as much as it did when he got shot; surely he'd be passed out- Ah! There it was.

Adam's world quickly receded to blackness.

XxxxXXXxxxX


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I'm really enjoying the feedback for this story. It was originally just a gift for my sister on this site (you've prolly seen her fics in the CSI:NY section), but since she has YET to review this sucker (big meanie), I'm just happy to have you guys, haha.

Disclaimer: Me? Own? Psh!

XxxxXXXxxxX

The young man groaned, his body had gone numb somehow, but his brain still pounded at his skull. "Adam? Buddy?" the voice was distant, but the more it called, the more Adam couldn't help but focus on it.

"Ugh, shut up, Messer," Adam moaned, scrunching his eyes shut against the setting sun and burying his face sideways into his pillow.

"Not gonna happen, Ross. Not until you explain to me why you turned off your IV." Danny told him, a clear tinge of disappointment in his voice. Without delay, Adam cracked one eye open, the other still buried in his starchy pillowcase.

Oh crap.

He was in trouble. He could read it all over Danny's face from the man's grim line of a mouth and cross-armed stance- Adam just hoped he was reading it differently since his glasses were still lying in that bathroom somewhere.

Slowly but surely, Adam sat up on his bed with only a bit of difficulty, probably due to the new drug cocktail traveling through his bloodstream. He picked absently at the threads of the pink blanket dripped over him. Danny cleared his throat, hoping Adam hadn't forgotten about his presence-which was impossible, Adam hoped Danny knew.

"She was special, Danny, and now she's dead." Adam glanced over at the older man, who just seemed angrier at his explanation.

"So you go and turn off your drugs?" Danny exploded, clearly enraged. "You think that's how you fix things, Adam? You could've gone into shock! If we hadn't gotten here when we did-" He paused, chest heaving up and down with pent up rage. He wasn't mad at Adam, although it certainly felt like that to the young scientist, just angry at himself that he didn't see this coming. "Ya know, I don't even want to think about it."

Danny plopped down in the purple chair beside Adam's bead, taking off his glasses to rub at his tired, itching eyes- At least that's what he excused the pricks at the edge of his vision as.

"I'm sorry, Danny. I had it under control. I knew what I was doing." Adam tried, which seemed to be the one thing in the world he probably shouldn't have said to the older detective.

Danny's head snapped up. "You had it '_under control_.' That's not what I call the brain shutting down because their pain level has shot through the roof. Think that's 'under control'? 'Cause that seems pretty _out_ of control to me, buddy."

"I'm sorry," Adam apologized for what seemed to be the billionth time to him. "It won't happen again."

"Well, that's one thing you're right about. I doubt Flack will take much of this crap while you're with him." Danny said.

Adam raised a questioning eyebrow. "What-what are you talking about?" Why would he ever in a hundred years be with Flack?

Since Adam almost gave him a heart attack, Danny felt it appropriate to do so in return. He laid on his next sentence ruthlessly thick, "Yeah, he's going to be watchin' you until we find the killer. Can't risk you getting hurt now."

Adam's mouth shut quickly. "No." He stated plainly. "Not gonna happen." It was probably the first time he had outright rebelled against something Danny told him, but he didn't care. Staying with Flack was probably much worse than any torture Danny could formulate.

"Sorry, Adam, but stunts like this?" He gave a curt nod to the machine Adam was hooked up to. "They sealed that deal awhile ago." Danny said matter-of-factly. Adam's heart sank and his head dropped to his chest. Sure, the scientist figured he looked pathetic, but it didn't matter now. Apparently, he couldn't be trusted with looking after himself so maybe he was pitiful. Danny's pompous expression softened at the sight of Adam's forlorn countenance. He laid a hand on his friend's back. "Look, I'll be sticking around a lot, too, so it's not like you'll be out there on your own. But, I'm telling ya, Flack is a nice guy once you get to know him. It won't be so bad."

Adam didn't look convinced, but no matter how many dirty looks he threw at Danny, it seemed he was already on the road to perdition.

"C'mon, get dressed so we can get you out of here." Danny said, throwing a duffel of Adam's clothes at the lab tech. "We'll drop by your house for some things and then head over to Flack's place."

Somber, Adam got up from the bed, grabbed his bag, and wheeled his IV towards the bathroom.

"Hey," Danny called to him. Adam turned slightly from his trek to the bathroom. "We're just tryin' to protect you, Adam. Don't worry. We'll find the guy who did this and then you can go back to playing Guitar Hero at your place." Adam managed a nod to his friend, afraid of what he would say if he dared open his mouth. He snapped the sliding door shut to the bathroom and wondered how he would change with the IV in his arm.

XxxxXXXxxxX

Stella pushed the wheelchair through the sliding glass doors. Adam sat sullenly in it, happy to be free of the hospital but still more depressed at his new distasteful destination. Stella put on the chair's brakes, and the two waited for Danny and Flack to bring the car around from the north parking lot. Hands pressed behind the small of her back, she leaned casually against one of the hospital's cement pillars, observing the pessimistic young man seated beside her.

"Hey," She began gently. "You know it's only going to be for a short while, right?" Stella asked him, breaking Adam from his gloomy reverie. He glanced up at her then returned his attention to picking at the uncomfortable sling his arm was held in.

"Yeah-uh-I just think-It's going to be pretty weird, staying with someone I barely know." Adam admitted verbally for the first time since he heard the news of his new living arrangement. Stella gave him an empathetic look and laid a warming hand upon his shoulder, leaning to his eye level.

"I know it's not easy to deal with these situations. Especially in our line of work, we want to be left alone and forget they ever happened. But, Adam, believe me when I say that it gets better when you have people around you to help carry you through it." She squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

"Yeah, but Flack?" Adam enquired. "The only thing he seems interested in carrying is his gun with him at all times." Stella laughed, finding the humorous comment to be in some sense true.

"Just promise me you'll make an attempt to get along with the guy." Stella proposed, narrowing her eyes.

"Sure," Adam acceded with a heavy sigh. He wasn't a hard guy to get along with, that much he was sure of. "And if I get shot trying?"

Stella shrugged. "I guess you'll be more symmetrical." The curly-haired detective declared, pointing to Adam's shoulder. He laughed, which felt hallow and unnatural in his body, like it didn't belong in there. As much as he loved Stella for adding her ray of sunshine to his every bleak situation, this one seemed out-and-out helpless.

First he was shot, which would've been fine if it was an accident. But no, it had to be by some psychotic who had an odd fetish for large knifes. Second, he lost a great girl who, he might add, he had risked his life saving in the first place, making it feel like he got shot for nothing. Third, the killer was after him, forcing him to be guarded by a hardened cop that Adam was, frankly, frightened to be around. And to top it all off, Adam's drug-induced headache was getting increasingly worse because he still didn't have his glasses.

Squinting in the distance, Adam watched a blurry, black car sharpen into focus as it drew closer to the spot which he sat. Once the vehicle came to a full stop, Danny got out with a pleasant greeting to the smiling, curly-haired detective behind the once-again brooding lab tech.

"You good to walk, buddy?" Danny asked Adam, who was still slightly mad at his friend from their previous encounter in the hospital room. Adam silently nodded and took a deep breath before mustering his strength and rising from the leather-backed wheelchair. Danny helped him considerably into the backseat of the car since he was still weak from the intense drug concoction pumping through his body systems.

Danny snapped the door shut and began talking to Stella about the case, at least that's what Adam inferred by their businesslike stances and "detective" faces. He studied them closely then switched his gaze to staring at his sling, anything really to distract him from the obvious presence in the front driver's seat.

The tall, black-haired detective sat there, his fingers drumming impatiently on the sleek steering wheel as if urging Danny to hurry up and get back in the car. His blue eyes shifted occasionally to the rear view mirror, taking in the sight of the injured and tired young man lounging in the backseat with a very dejected look in his eyes.

Flack opened his jaw, as if to strike up a conversation with the young man, but closed it quickly, rethinking his comment. Everything he wanted to talk about to the lab tech just didn't seem suitable for their situation. The wrinkles in the dashing detective's face deepened with the stress of not knowing what to say to the unfortunate Adam Ross. He sighed; he wasn't sure who wanted the killer found faster: Adam, whose life was threatened with each passing second the man lurked out there, or Flack, whose total inexperience with roommates and nerdy friends left him with the foreign feelings of helplessness.

Just as Flack thought of something to say (it was a topic on what was Adam's favorite sports team. Wait, _does Adam even like sports?_ Oi, Don's head hurt.) , Danny plopped into the passenger seat beside Flack.

"What was that about?" Flack asked, happy to begin driving out of the hospital parking lot and onto the main road to Adam's house.

"Stella." He stated, clicking the seatbelt into place. "Told me they needed help looking through case files." Danny explained, laying his head back against the head rest. "Said archives sent three boxes over to the station that she needs us to look through."

"Sounds like we got our night planned out for us," Flack said bitterly. Realistically speaking, he should probably be used to the "no sleep" factor of his job, but sometimes he really needed the unwinding time.

"Yeah, so no packin' your Guitar Hero or whatever, Adam," Danny instructed. Adam smirked sheepishly.

"You like Guitar Hero, Ross?" Flack glanced at the lab tech through the rearview mirror and Adam caught his eye. Slightly surprised by the direct address, the auburn-haired young man nodded. Flack readjusted his attention to the road. "That's a good game."

"Yes, it's too bad you two can't geek out on it tonight." He sighed, talking mostly to Flack. "Sure you'd be fit for shootin' bad guys after you've spent all night shredding it on the Xbox."

Flack shook his head with a smile. "Hey, I make good shots even on four hours."

"If by 'good' you mean shooting that one guy in the ear twice, then I don't want to be 'good.'" Danny rebutted teasingly. Flack scoffed.

"Right and Mr. Accidentally-Shot-His-Foot-While-Climbing-a-Fence is a better title?"

Adam snorted from the back seat, which brought a small smile to Flack's face. Danny ignored both men and glowered in his seat.

"You promised you would never bring that up," Danny said, sounding every bit the grumpy housewife.

"Hey, we're in good company. Ross won't tell nobody about your 'incident', right?" He glanced up at Adam, who shook his head. "Eh, it was worth a try. Guess you're rep is screwed now."

"Perfect," Danny stated, closing his eyes and enjoying the rest of the quiet ride to Adam's place.

Sometime later, they arrived at the ten-story apartment building. Adam lived on the sixth floor of the cramped, dingy brown complex right next to the scary old lady with her crazy birds and a gentlemen who seemed to be doing suspicious activity with his living space. Since Danny had fallen asleep awhile ago, Flack climbed the steps up to the sixth floor alongside Adam. -The elevator having broken a few months back with no sign of ever being repaired (It was probably for the best, really).

Adam hooked his hand in his pocket and retrieved his keys, unlocking the door. Flack followed him in but stopped at the entrance, figuring Adam wouldn't need help packing _his_ things.

"I'll hurry this up," Adam said and shuffled down the hallway to what Flack assumed was his bedroom. Once the lab tech was out of sight, the detective attempted to search for conversation topics based on what he could make out in Adam's living room.

The Xbox hooked up to the sizeable television screen looked heavily used as did the guitar controller. Several books on DNA and other sciences were stacked high against the walls of the room. Flack walked closer to one of the stacks, peaked to make sure Adam wouldn't catch him, and flipped the top book open. Each chunk of pages he turned revealed a new leaflet that was heavily hi-lighted and written in. Flack was impressed and fairly intimidated by the amount of knowledge that Adam beheld.

Adam didn't seem flattered by Flack's prying though. Once he returned awhile later with a large item, he flushed slightly at the sight of Flack holding one of his books. He set down his baggage and gently pulled the book from Flack's hands to reorganize the book in its proper place. The tall detective watched with waning curiosity at the meticulous system Adam had when dealing with the large books.

He would have pondered over Adam and his OCD-indicative habits, but something caught his eye. It was movement. Not the kind of movement that forced him to throw Adam into a closet and pull out his gun, shouting orders to drop their weapon. No, nothing like that. It was a pink-tailed, white rat that sat inside a small, wire cage, staring strangely up at Flack with two beady red eyes. Flack gulped.

"What's that?" he asked.

Adam furrowed his brow and followed Flack's line a vision. "Oh! Yeah-That's Scabbers. He's a rat." Flack gave him a look that read, "Obviously!" The detective knew full-well what it was. He simply wanted to ensure nothing of the sort would be entering his own apartment any time in the next millennia.

"He comin' with you?" Flack asked, praying to any God that would listen that the scientist would stutter out a simple "no."

Adam turned to meet Flack's look of veiled anxiety. "Uh, well, I don't really have anybody here to take care of him. And-and." Adam stared down at his rat, looking ready to cry. Flack just growled. Why him? Why a creepy little rat when goldfish were so much cheaper? He jingled his keys in his pocket, something to release his frustration at what he was about to say.

"Okay, fine, he can come," The dark-haired detective grounded out. "Just… Don't take him out of the cage." Adam nodded gratefully.

"Thanks-thank you… Uh-Let me just get my other stuff." Adam said, walking back down the hallway, leaving Flack to have a staring contest with his disturbing pet. The auburn-haired young man sighed once he arrived back in his room, eyes flitting to the window. He wondered briefly how far he'd get before Flack noticed he was gone.

He guessed not far.

Scratching at the sling's irritating material against his neck, Adam walked to his closet and tried to mangle a suitcase from the top of it. The task proved almost impossible in his current condition, but the young man demonstrated great one-armed skill, if he did say so himself. Adam had almost managed to get it down completely –Well, the suitcase and a box that he hadn't noticed was lying atop it before it plunged straight at him.

Instinctively, Adam reached up to stop it from hitting him in the face. A mistake, clearly, once he felt the pains shoot through his arm and a sudden moistness under the sling. He swore, letting the suitcase and box of old comic books topple to the floor, while he grasped his excruciating arm.

"ADAM?" He heard Flack call. "You okay in there?"

"Yeah!" Adam yelled back, hoping the other man wouldn't notice the pain-filled strain in his tone. "I'm good!"

He gathered the courage to look down at his shoulder. Being as doped up as he was, the hurting had subsided with the painkillers running freely inside his blood. His shirt wasn't soiled with the red liquid but it would be soon if he didn't act fast.

Hurriedly, he rushed to the adjoining bathroom and pulled out the first-aid kit on the shelf above the toilet. Careful not to jostle his other arm, he laid the white plastic case on the counter and pulled out a thick bandage. Adam bit his lip as he reached underneath his shirt and pulled off the hospital's dressing and replaced it with the new one from the kit. In a great show of cowardice, the lab tech made it a point of not looking at the wound much, scared of how he might faint if he saw his horrible, bleeding abrasion.

Adam grabbed three more thick bandages from the kit and returned to his room, feeling light headed and short on breath. The young man shook his head; he had to look sobered up and not like he just ran a marathon. If Flack were to find out he ripped his stitches… Adam shuddered.

He just didn't want to think about that.

Instead, the scientist knelt down next to the rolling black suitcase, stuffing the bandages inside- Just in time apparently as Flack chose that exact time to knock on the door. Startled, Adam spun his head around to see the detective giving him a quizzical look.

"Something wrong?" The taller man inquired, a tinge of concern in his voice.

Adam turned away from the detective, making a face as he pretended to pack important items. "No-uh-No, nothing. Almost done." He got up with a grimace, walked over to the dresser and threw random articles of clothing into his bag. "Yeah, I think that's- Oh!" He spotted his beloved spare pair of glasses and packed it in his bag as well. Once he zipped the black luggage shut, a hand reached down and picked it up, surprising Adam a little. He looked up at Flack.

"Thanks," He mumbled.

"No problem; your rat is still on the couch, by the way," Flack informed him, and Adam resisted the urge to point out his name was Scabbers.

As the two exited the apartment, Adam studied his rat, the animal gloriously unaware of the situation around him. To Scabbers, the world would still be in order inside his modest cage; the young man wistfully yearned to go back to his.

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**A/N:** Tell me what you think/stroke my enormous ego –Leave a review! :D


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank YOU for all your lovely feedback. It truly has made my days. Though if I don't get one from fwuzzfwuzz pretty soon…

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"So the bathroom's down the hall; you'll be staying in the room on the right. And the kitchen's right over here." Adam had barely caught any of Flack's directions as he soaked in the surroundings of the detective's apartment.

Adam tried not to think why he found Flack's cleanliness to be so surprising. In the middle of the two room-one bathroom apartment was a large living room with a long white couch lining the west wall and a superior entertainment system opposite the sofa. Gray pillows and navy blue knick-knacks nicely accented the place, begging the question if Flack had hired an interior designer or secretly had an "eye" for good decorating. Just past the furniture, on the north wall, were two windowed doors which opened up to a balcony/fire-escape, overlooking the murky Hudson River.

"Hey, did your leg get shot too, pal? Keep movin'." Danny ordered from behind him. The dirty blonde detective stood impatiently behind Adam with two, brown boxes full of case files. The lab tech awoke from his brief examination to scoot out of the way. Even with Danny's enormous arms, Adam knew nobody could withstand the weight of over ten years of case files for very long.

Once his path was clear, Danny walked haltingly over to the tall breakfast nook that served as Flack's general dining area. He set down the boxes with a grunt, coughing as a cloud of dust blew in his face upon impact with the dark wood table.

Flack patted Danny on the back. "We'll ignore those for now. Wanna help me start dinner?" Adam figured this was a normal request between the two occasional work partners, for between coughs from the settling dust, Danny nodded in agreement.

"Sure, no problem." Danny sniffed then turned to Adam. "Chicken parmesan good with you, buddy?"

"Uh-Yeah," Adam nodded, looking down habitually.

Flack was tugging his tie undone as he said to Adam, "Go ahead and unpack your things in the room. Dinner'll be done at six."

Danny grinned. "That a challenge, Flack?"

"Yeah, Messer, you up to it?" Flack said, smirking back with a glint in his eyes. Danny chuckled and the two detectives walked into the kitchen, abandoning Adam to figure out which room was his and which belonged to the blue-eyed man.

One hand holding Scabbers' cage and the other strung up in a relentlessly itching sling, Adam poked his head inside one of the rooms. Definitely Flack's, Adam decided as he spotted the slightly messed up bed and the other signs of obvious living-in. That is, unless Flack used his guest room regularly, but that was doubtful.

Although the young man was aware of the room's ownership boundaries, Adam found himself stepping past the doorway for further investigation. Snooping was in his veins, the scientist figured, but Flack wasn't the best person to pry into.

He was usually packing heat.

Pointedly ignoring that particular detail, Adam walked closer to the black dresser at his right, studying the miscellaneous objects placed atop it. He recognized Flack's sister in a polished silver-framed photo as she waved on a bridge in a sunny area very much not New York. Next to it were some post-its, prescription bottles for pain (_probably from the accident_, Adam recalled, thinking back on the explosion from which Flack had almost died), and a signed hockey puck on a small, red wood pedestal.

Adam continued to observe the sports posters, art, and various other objects located around the room, careful not to touch or move anything (as if he could with his two out-of-commission hands). The lab tech couldn't help a small smile at the goofy picture of all his coworkers, enclosed in a small picture on the detective's nightstand next to his large, king-sized bed.

While he studied the faces of his delighted coworkers, his foot kicked a box of some sort under the bed. His curiosity piqued, Adam sunk to his knees and gently set Scabbers on the plush cream carpet beside him. He pulled the striped gray and blue bed skirt up and reached underneath, pulling out a weighty and aged Converse-sneaker box. Sitting on his knees, Adam debated whether to open it or not. From the corner of his eye, he caught Scabbers giving him a judgmental look.

"It's under his bed, practically in plain sight," he said to the rat, something he did occasionally much to his sanity's concern. Holding his breath, Adam used his uninjured hand to lift the top of the box. There inside Adam made a startling discovery:

Comic books.

There were at least fifty of them in the weathered black box, all neatly stacked and in protective plastic covering. Being the uber-geek that he was, Adam immediately recognized most of the titles on the covers that he thumbed through.

Adam shook his head as he spotted one of his favorites. This was crazy. Who knew a tough guy like Flack was actually a closet nerd like Adam? For this reason, the scientist thought it best to take a closer look under the bed. Sure enough, there were five or six other boxes exactly like the one Adam had opened in front of him. The young man chuckled quietly to himself at the irony.

"Ahem." Adam's smile fell instantly at the sound and his breath caught in his throat. The scientist could feel the hairs rising at the base of his neck, like a prisoner of war awaiting the swing of the axe on his neck. –Except now it was a very, very intimidating detective and instead of an axe it would either be beating him to a pulp or adding another hole to Adam's growing collection.

Flack stepped around and looked mildly surprised to see the young man had intentionally dug under his bed to find his comics. Adam dared a quick glance up at him, feeling awkward and uneasy under the heat of his patronizing stare.

"See you found my stash," Flack pointed out, his brow still creased in discontent. Adam looked down at the pile of comics stacked carelessly in his lap, looking very much like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Adam shook his head.

"I-I'm so sorry, Flack. I couldn't find the right room, so I went in here. And-And I shouldn't have been so nosy, but I saw this box-and-I opened it. It was wrong. I'm really sorry-And-" At this point, Adam looked very close to passing out from hyperventilation. So much so, Flack became increasingly worried for the young man.

He knelt down next to him and rested a placating hand on Adam's shoulder. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Just calm down." Adam closed his mouth, now breathing heavily through his nose, chancing another wary glance up at the other man. Flack tried his best to plaster a comforting smile on his face, anything to calm the upset young man. "Yeah, I like comic books; I don't see anything wrong with that, do you?"

Adam hurriedly shook his head. "No, not at all. I-I actually like them too."

This evidently surprised the other man, who thought, by what he saw at the lab tech's apartment, Adam only bothered with heavy, perplexing books about genetics and science. Flack's fake smile turned into a thoughtful frown as he pulled his hand off Adam's back and crossed his arms. "Really? What're your favorite covers?"

Adam looked down at the covers in his hand, considering, "Ironically, a lot of these ones."

"No joke?" The detective was somewhat suspicious Adam might've just been saying that so he would avoid whatever notions he had about Flack's temper.

"Would I have risked pulling them out if I didn't like them?" Adam almost smiled but it faltered when he realized he just drew attention to his crime again. Stupid, stupid…

Flack smirked and scratched the back of his head. "Guess not." Adam bit his lip, still ill at ease in such close proximity of the other man. He didn't know how else to feel since his expectations of being fatally injured had fallen through. "Tell you what; go through those if you want. There's some more under the bed, too."

"Oh yeah, I know," Adam would've strangled himself had his other arm not been handicapped. Why did he struggle to say words and when he actually thought of something to say, it seemed to be perfectly stupid.

Flack rubbed his hand over the short hairs on the back of his head, resisting the urge to grin as Adam made an animated display of mentally beating himself up. Poor kid. It bothered Flack how someone so brilliant like Adam could be so insecure and unsure about himself. "Good. Your rooms down the hall by the way. Don't forget your rat." God forbid Adam leave the creepy beast inside _his_ room.

Flack left shortly after, not worried about Adam messing with anything else. Sorry to say, he was sure the young man had already given himself a better reprimand than Flack could ever offer.

The detective returned to the kitchen where Danny was tapping various spices into the pot of steaming pasta. Flack read the clock: 5:50- Looks like they met the deadline. Danny glanced up from his work to observe the other man.

"Thought you were going to change," The blonde-haired man said, staring pointedly at the light blue dress shirt Flack had left to change out of (He had already stained it with some of the sauce, unfortunately).

"Huh?" Flack was busy mulling over thoughts of Adam while setting the table he didn't catch onto Danny's question until he noticed his colleague staring pointedly at his shirt. Flack looked down at the shirt questioningly, awaiting revelation to dawn on him, which it did five seconds later. "Oh, yeah, guess I got distracted."

"Must've been pretty distracting if you forgot to change your shirt." Danny mused, grabbing the square-shaped plate Flack was holding to pile it with the chicken and pasta.

"It was just Adam." Flack said, crossing his arms and leaning against the granite counter. "I'm still not sure about this, Danny. Know I'm protectin' him and everything, but I've never dealt with anything like this before. It feels like he's on a totally different planet half the time."

Danny placed the finished plate on the table and grabbed another to heap with food. "Look, I wanna say he'll come around and everything will be all right, but that's just not Adam. He's not a regular-type guy, and you learn to appreciate it."

"You tellin' me you _like it_ when he freaks out and turns weird on you? " Flack inquired doubtfully.

"Kiddin'?" Danny scoffed. "I want to tear out my hair when it takes him an hour to tell me one sentence."

"And considering you don't got a whole lot left…" Flack grinned.

"Watch it," Danny warned, sending a mock glare to his partner. "Just sayin', Adam's got a lot more under the surface than he gets credit for. He's the funniest guy I know, even if most of his jokes go totally over my head."

"With height like that, I think all jokes make it over there." Flack couldn't help himself; he was probably the only one who could get away with saying that.

"I'll remember that next time you need backup, man," Danny bit back. Flack just gave him another cheeky grin.

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After the three of them finished the appetizing dinner, they settled down in the living room to pore over the different files, trying to identify similar cases. Adam was stuck with looking through nearly one thousand different mug shots and files of different suspects, all of similar shapes, bone structures, and facial characteristics.

Adam had a clear picture in his head of what the killer looked like, a fact that forced him to room with Flack in the first place. The problem was, the pictures _out_ of his head kept getting blurry and fading out of focus.

The young man shook his head again, the suspect on the glossy paper looked like the blob for a moment there. Adam adjusted himself on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, picture only five inches from his face. He still wasn't positive if this was the guy or not. He hadn't had luck with the past two hundred pictures so he placed it in the negative pile.

Near Adam with his work strewn messily across the low-set coffee table sat Danny who had taken off his glasses to rub tiredly at his itching eyes. Flack sat a few feet away at the table they had eaten dinner, now trying to chew through the enormous pile of case files. Both men had changed into matching white wife-beaters, but Adam was too distracted with his internal functions to worry about his outward appearance.

The drugs had almost completely worn off by now, leaving Adam with a dull and severe ache in his shoulder. His breaths continued to shorten, and the bandage covering his opened stitching was beginning to feel slightly damp. That coupled with his already drooping eyes and frayed nerves left Adam an overwrought mess. He had to get out of the room or risk collapsing in it, leaving Danny and Flack to pick up the pieces.

Trying to control the shaking in his voice, Adam announced he was going to bed. He inwardly grimaced at how pathetic that sounded, leaving the two detectives to do the work while got to hit the sack, but, strangely enough, Danny and Flack understood and actually encouraged the action. Adam almost felt compelled to protest at the how readily they were to send him off to bed, but doing that risked expending the last of his already empty energy sources.

In as normal a walk he could manage, the lab tech turned down the hall to his temporary living space, a small room with the white walls, dresser, and bed combo all done up in blue and gray accents. Adam didn't have time to ponder how unusually coordinated the whole house was because it felt like hell had switched locations from the core of the earth to the inside of his body.

Adam almost wasn't successful in walking the short distance from the doorway to the bed. With heavy breaths and a sweating head, he climbed on top of the bed and finally sunk into a feverish, fitful sleep.

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A/N: A bit on the short side, but it's leading to something soon! Promise! Please drop a review by. I love the ones I've been getting for this story. I don't often hear much about Don/Adam; so I find them interesting.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Okay, for the record, Kristine's review is false. The story is not TOTALLY complete yet. I haven't even fully written the ending. Ai, sisters!

Also, I loved all the reviews I got for last chapter. I don't think I smiled bigger in my entire life. Totally love you guys!

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3:48 AM –That was what the clock read, and Flack felt ready to throw something at it for reminding him. It had been a long and trying day attempting to get in touch with his new housemate, and the poor detective still felt he hadn't accomplished a single thing. Granted, he hadn't had a lot of time to spend good quality time with Adam, so maybe he was being too negative? Everybody deserved the benefit of the doubt.

And Flack could give Adam that much.

In spite of this renewed sense of optimism, Flack's eyelids still felt like sheets of rock, and he was losing the fight to lift them open again.

"Start this up tomorrow?" Flack asked, his voice thick with tiredness.

In response, Danny let out a loud snore. Flack looked up in mild bewilderment to find the snoozing, blonde detective already lounging peacefully on his couch. Apparently, Danny was way ahead of him. Flack would've found this amusing if his brain hadn't stopped working ten minutes ago.

Leaning the chair back on its hind legs, Flack stretched a bit and got up. Like a zombie, he stalked down the hallway to his room. He paused, his ears perking up to an odd noise. It wounded like…

A whimper.

His mind screamed at him to let it go, to not be the "detective" just once in his life and get the sleep he so rightfully deserved. Still, he stood there in the middle of the hallway, hoping the noise would come again so he could locate its origin.

It happened again, and now Flack knew for sure where it was: Adam's room. Once this realization hit him, the exhaustion in him washed away, apart from a sharp stinging sensation in his eyes. Flack crept cautiously into the room. If need be, he kept an extra gun in the guest room's closet, but it didn't seem like it would come to that. As far as the detective could tell, only Adam was in the room, sleeping, albeit fitfully, in the full-sized bed.

The black-haired man switched on the small bedside lamp for further investigation. His breath caught in his throat at the sight he saw: Adam was sweating profusely, muttering things in his sleep, and looking in general like death warmed over. Flack tried not to panic. He had little to no medical experience aside from the average CPR certification, but oxygen-deficiency definitely wasn't the young man's problem.

Flack did the only thing he could think of: wake Adam up. He did this by slapping the scientist lightly on the cheek and calling his name in an urgent tone. When the younger man finally came to, Flack was relieved, but the sense of worry quickly regenerated itself as Adam continued to mutter nonsensical phrases and stare at him with fever in his eyes.

Adam was burning up. That much Flack could make out. Working fast, the tall man pulled out a washcloth from the guest room closet, doused it in cold water from the kitchen, and returned to find the young man had fallen back into his fever-induced nightmare (it was likely he had never gotten out of it in the first place). Flack persisted to wipe Adam's face with the cloth, hoping to transfer some form of coolness to the sweating lab tech's body.

It wasn't working.

Flack had continued pressing the cloth against Adam's face until the heat from his body dried out the water in the cloth. Out of pure desperation, Flack unhooked the sling around Adam's neck and began undressing him. He knew something was immediately wrong when he saw the growing blot of red on Adam's dark blue t-shirt. Not until he had carefully removed the shirt did he see the root of the problem.

The once-white bandage had been soaked many times through, now dyed a deep shade of red. His mouth set in a grim line, Flack peeled off the dressing that was definitely not provided by any sane hospital. The stitching underneath looked horrible, confirming Flack's suspicion of infection. It was the only thing that explained Adam's incredibly high fever.

What followed were new stitches (per instructions from Flack's iPhone), clean dressing, and over 500mg of painkillers and antibiotics that were originally prescribed to the detective. By the end of it, a bushed Flack sat against Adam's headboard, dabbing the wet washcloth against the young man's pale face and waiting for the meds to do take action.

Adam stirred once the fever went down some and the cool rag penetrated his burning flesh. He swallowed convulsively and squinted in the light emanating from the lamp.

"What-?" He tried, but Flack shushed him quickly.

"Don't try to talk. Just go back to sleep." Adam evidently didn't need to be told twice. He had drifted back the moment he saw Flack beside him, an odd feeling of relief flooding over him at the sight of the other man.

Flack continued to watch Adam as he slept. Knowing he would be all right was altogether overwhelming, and the tension that had built up the past hour released itself, causing the man to finally drift off into a dreamless sleep.

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As if breaking free from an abysmal terror, Adam's eyes bolted open in alarm. His body ached from the remnant of the fever the night before. Questions were spreading like a wildfire through his head of how he ended up in this unfamiliar place. Why was he lying in this bed? Why was Flack sleeping in the chair besides him? And why did his body ache so much?

Like speeding into a ton of bricks, the answers hit him head on. Flack was here because of his infected wound. The detective had given up his precious sleep to take care of Adam through the night and early morning.

Adam's heart sank at the thought. How could he have caused even more stress and turmoil to the older man's life? Was he really that useless that he had become incapable of even _hiding _his own problems?

Tenderly, Adam scooted out of the bed, his body protesting every second of it. Adam morosely surveyed the tired detective snoozing in an odd position against the bed, a basin full of bloodied water, bandages, and rags on the nightstand to his right. The sight made Adam's stomach turn uncomfortably but not as much as knowing he was the one that caused the spectacle in the first place.

Not being able to take being in the room with Flack for one more second, the auburn-haired scientist hesitantly walked out of the room, crept past Danny in the living room, and made his way outside into the chilly, early morning air of New York City. Adam was clueless of where his feet were taking him, but he cared just as much about his destination as he did about the chill of outside or the fact that he wasn't wearing a jacket.

He wanted to be numb to all the emotional stress of the past two days. So much of his life had changed, and every passing second brought new problems that were more out of his control than ever. He hated it.

The throbbing in his heart was almost bested by the intense shivering he was doing as he found himself walking through the park, straight to his favorite pizza parlor. If the light gray sky was any indication, Adam knew it was much too early to be picking up a slice at this hour. So, instead, the young man seated himself on the bench across the street from it, staring at the Shoppe with a sort of despondent expression, very unlike the usually-peppy lab tech.

Adam wasn't sure how long he sat like that. He just knew the chill had reached his bones and he could swear the chill was now sinking past his bones and into his bloodstream. He closed his eyes, breathing it in and wondering distractedly if someone would find him still sitting in the same position, frozen in place.

"Where the fuck have you been, Adam!" The lab tech's eyes opened wide in terror. He spun faster than one would think after spending two hours of sitting so still in the cold New York weather.

Adam wondered if it was Flack's red-hot fury that had warmed him up or the humiliation of being caught so easily. Either way, his whole body was screaming for him to run again or at least faint on the spot. Unfortunately, his body seemed unwilling to do either as he stared in shock silence at the expression Flack usually saved for striking fear into even the most hardened criminals.

"I-I can explain-" Adam managed to stutter out, his breath coming out in shortened puffs that were obvious to make out in the frosty air.

"No, you get to talk when I'm done talkin' to you! I just spent the better part of my night freakin' out of my mind, d'yous know why?" Flack's internal New Yorker was becoming all the more apparent as his rage bubbled over in his speech. Adam didn't dare even move to answer. "Because I was worried about you! Adam, you could have died if I hadn't heard you last night."

The young man's head turned downward, but Flack's growl told him to keep eye contact. To Adam's chagrin, the detective still wasn't done pointing out his flaws.

"Now I find you sitting outside, no coat on, in the middle of friggin' fall! Are you just trying to get yourself killed or just make my life that much harder?"

Those last words stung Adam the hardest and his misery-dulled eyes sharpened at the full gravity of his sentence. Suddenly, the lab tech did something he never thought he'd ever do to Flack: he stood up to him. Rising from the bench quickly, Adam muttered in a hurt but impassioned voice, "God forbid I mess up your life more than I already have."

With that, Adam started to leave. Flack was actually pretty shocked that someone, especially Adam Ross, the kid that flinched when a car backfired too loudly, would say something like that and just stalk off. But, these things did happen and Flack did the same thing that he always did when he had to deal with people just walking off mid-sentence: he chased after them.

"Hey, we're not done here, Adam," Flack said determinedly, catching up to the younger man's steady gait

"Yes, we are. I am formally declining all of your protection needs. I can't even recall consenting to them in the first place," Adam mumbled the last part but his irritated manner never left. Flack still walked beside him, his anger dissipating when he caught sight of the hurt that shown openly on the younger man's face.

Flack suddenly stopped, using an arm to halt Adam along with him. "Hey," he looked pointedly into Adam's matching blue eyes. "I'm sorry, okay? My anger sometimes gets ahead of myself. I didn't even bother to ask why you left in the first place."

Adam shook his head at the taller man, not believing the sentimental statement had escaped Flack's lips but at the same time, too busy with his own personal problems to even care. "It doesn't matter. They're not important. Just let me go."

Flack's grip on Adam's shoulder wouldn't budge though, impeding the lab tech from moving any further. "Adam, their important. Trust me."

If there was one thing that Flack was good at, it was using his sincere eyes. They worked on both sexes and it usually got him just what he wanted when he played them right. And, being the pliable lump that he was, Adam believed him.

"I-I," The anxious stutter was coming back into his speech as Adam's previous resolve melted away with Flack's puppy-dog expression. The detective offered an encouraging and patient squeeze to Adam's arm, causing the young man to close his eyes in an attempt to soothe his nerves. "I feel weak."

Flack tilted his head in confusion, thinking Adam meant in a physical sense, but nonetheless, let him continue.

"I'm weak and vulnerable and I feel like I'm the only one in the lab that doesn't seem to have a detachable gun at my disposal." Adam admitted with a sigh, as if an emotional weight was being lifted slightly just by speaking his true feelings.

"Adam that's not true-" Flack began but Adam's slight shake of his head stopped him from speaking.

Adam continued, still a bit shakily. "And I'm tired of having to be protected all the time by you guys. Because it makes me feel like 'that dude' that can't take care of himself and has to rely on everyone else to take care of his problems." The words were actually hurting him to say. "Not that you'd understand."

"You're right." Flack said and Adam looked up for the first time. "I don't understand. I have a gun in every room of my house, rely only on myself, and run into buildings without a care for my well-being. But that just makes me the person I am. You've at least got the brains to accept help when it's offered to you."

Adam allowed himself the smallest of smirks at Flack's jocular statement.

"I'd trade in my gun any day for a brain like yours. We all would. So stop focusing on all the things that you don't have and start focusing on the million things you're better than me at."

"That might be a lot," Adam replied timidly, making Flack chuckle good-naturedly.

"C'mon, let's see if Messer was able to drag his lazy ass out of bed yet." Flack said, leading the younger lab tech in the direction of the apartment.

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**A/N:** Okay, so I wanted to give you guys a bit more story, but if I had, I would've been giving much too much information. Haha, please don't hate me! I want more reviews. They make me glad and not sad, like the trash bags. So drop one down this dumpster now! (Okay, bad, bad pun…)


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Thank you for all of your lovely reviews. Specially like the ones that stroke my ego and comment on the wonderful relationship that is between Flack and Adam. I try, I really do. (is conceited)

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Don Flack and Adam Ross were barely a block away from the detective's apartment when they heard the sounds of sirens coming from his complex. Suffice it to say, they made quick work of getting the rest of the way there to discover quite the crime scene in barricading the entrance to Flack's abode.

"What's the situation?" Flack said in his normal detective voice that left Adam gawking. Were they not standing in front of his house? Was he not shocked by the broken-in window or the torn curtains? Because that sure as hell was sending chills down Adam's spine!

"Found the guy we were lookin' for snoopin' around the downstairs guest room. It's a good thing Adam wasn't in there because when I found and detained him he was carrying this," Danny held up a plastic bag with a sizeable blade inside. Adam's face noticeably paled so he instead turned his pinched expression to the number of cops searching the inside of Flack's apartment.

Maybe he was just making Flack's life harder…

"Are you okay?" Flack asked, sparing little concern for the spectacle centered on his living quarters.

Danny nodded thoughtfully. "Got a little scraped up in the struggle but nothing major."

"Good, I'll take Adam down to the station and make sure we got the right guy. Adam!" Flack said forcefully, trying to pull the dazed scientist out of his intrigued trance. Adam looked up at him, his expression still anxious. Flack softened his tone when he caught saw the other man's face. "You ready to head down to PD?"

Adam nodded, albeit apprehensively, still casting worried looks at the sliced curtains and ripped bed linens. He shuddered, knowing it would have been a losing battle if he had been in the bed. Pushing past the traumatizing thoughts, Adam obediently followed Flack to the sleek black car all the way to the bustling NYPD headquarters.

Adam was lead into a familiar-looking room with four walls and a stretched window that allowed him to watch a white wall etched with several height markings. He tensely nodded as Flack explained to him what was going to happen and that he could always leave if looking at the men brought back bad memories.

Adam resisted the urge to tell him he had seen it done over a thousand times in his own personal experience with witnesses and through numerous television shows. Words seemed to be lodged in his throat at that moment as he waited on bated breath for the men to come in. The young man was about to be in the presence of the monster that killed two people, one very dear to Adam, in the past three days. Such actions were inhumane and made him shudder uncontrollably.

"Are you cold?" Flack asked, his face contorting into one of unfamiliar worry. Adam seemed slightly shocked at the sentiment but even more shocked by the action that followed. The detective hurriedly shrugged off his trust gray trench coat and laid it gently around Adam's shoulder.

Not knowing what else to do, Adam slipped his good arm inside, instantly warmed by the coat and an odd blush that spread across his cheeks. Was it normal for a man to offer his coat to another male? The lab tech decided to deliberate on that detail later as he hugged the warmed clothing around his shivering frame. Flack watched him carefully for another moment, reassured that the tech wasn't actually suffering from some symptom of PTSD and gave the go ahead to the officer to bring the men in.

Adam sat atop the nimbly little stool, eyeing the suspects carefully and with a certain amount of nervousness. It was only when Adam saw the man from that night that something hit him:

He knew him.

And, obviously, of course he knew him. He was the man that Adam had seen that night and the monster that killed Christine the night after. But, even as Adam rose to garner a closer inspection of that man's face, the young man already knew the face, the nervous fidgeting of his right arm, and the unforgettable fuzzy mane that reached the nape of his neck.

It was Hal Curtis. The man looked slightly more deranged than usual, or maybe he always looked that way. The little Adam could remember of his old acquaintance from college consisted of Hal being a very distant kind of guy that seemed too weird and old for the university setting.

One thing that remained quite poignant in Adam's mind about Hal was his connection to Rob Hartnett.

And belatedly, Adam realized there was a much deeper connection between the two men from that night at the concert. There was an even deeper connection to him.

"Adam?" Flack asked, and Adam started at his soft tone, looking into the detectives concerned blue eyes. "Do you need to take a moment?"

Adam declined with a shake of his head, too stunned by the flood of information to speak. Instead, he pointed timidly to Hal Curtis, who was the fourth man from the right in the lineup. Flack quirked an eyebrow at the sketchy-looking character. "You sure about that?"

Adam closed his eyes and nodded. More sure than he was willing to admit.

"Okay then, we'll have a talk-" Flack began and Adam cut him off.

"I'm going to use the restroom real fast." Adam all but spit out. In his rush to get there, he barely noticed the great wall of Flack that held him in place.

"I'm sorry, Adam; I can't let you do that." The detective said in a regretful tone.

Adam let a sliver of a laugh creep into his voice as he replied, "What? You're afraid I'm going to run off while I'm taking a piss?"

"Actually, that's exactly what I'm afraid of."

Damn, because that's exactly what Adam had planned. Still, Adam had to find a way out of the older detective's watchful gaze, but after the stunt he pulled that morning, such a task seemed almost too daunting to even bother with.

"Um, what if I really have to go though? You're not going to seriously deny a guy the right to pee, right?" Adam asked sincerely. If there was one thing Adam was good at, it was making people trust him .Who would ever be suspicious of the biggest wimp in the world. Certainly not Flack.

"I'll just come with you then," Flack said, giving Adam one of his patented smirks and a knowing look. Adam tried hard not to kick the nearest wall in frustration. This guy just couldn't stop being the overbearing detective for one second, could he?

As they walked their way over to the bathroom, Flack at least had the good grace of letting Adam go into the four-stalled restroom by himself. Adam took this as a golden opportunity, of course, and began searching the room for an exit.

_Perfect!_

On the other side of the room was an exit into the men's locker room which probably lead directly into the great outdoors. The sooner Adam got to Rob the better, thus he made haste to breaking the locker room's code and backing through the door.

As he watched the inside of the restroom, making sure Flack wouldn't catch him, he didn't notice the man he was backing into until it was too late.

"Ow!" Adam cried and turned around swiftly with an irritated look on his face, his hand rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head that connected with the other man's jaw. The irritation quickly turned to surprise then fear when he caught sight of Flack rubbing the sore spot on his chin he'd hit with his head.

"Ah! Watch it, Ross!" Flack said, more disappointed that he didn't move out of the way soon enough than the fact that Adam had actually considered running away through the officer's locker room. It was only until he caught sight of Adam's eyes shifting toward the exit sign behind him that Flack actually switched gears.

In one swift motion, Adam found himself pinned against the wall, Flack bearing in on him with a no-nonsense look in his icy blue eyes. "Look, Ross, you're going to tell me _what_ you know about that man in there, or I'm about to make your life very painful."

Adam didn't think that was possible at the moment as Flack's elbow was pushing quite harshly into his injured shoulder. So much so, that Adam momentarily felt his eyes roll into the back of his head. When he refocused again, he was slumped on the floor with Flack knelt in front of him, slapping him lightly on the cheek.

"Ugh, stop-stop it." Adam pleaded, throwing Flack's hand to the side.

Flack's demeanor had done a complete 360 from the guy of, what felt like to Adam, was only a couple of seconds ago. "God, buddy, I'm sorry. I totally forgot about your shoulder… thing." Flack said, motioning awkwardly to his own shoulder.

Adam was breathing heavily, more from the pain now receding slightly from his shoulder than the thought of Flack killing him. Without any options left, Adam finally decided to just do it.

"It's Rob Hartnett."

Flack looked up at him in confusion, his mind not even on the case anymore (miracle in itself). "Who?"

"The guy from the concert I had a connection with from college. Hal Curtis, you suspect in the interrogation room right now, is in cahoots with him." Adam said with a little more clarity as he was able to think about something other than the fire within his shoulder.

Flack shook his head, disbelieving that Adam was capable of knowing such a thing. "How do figure?"

Adam gulped, this was the tough part. The part that could make or break him. In this case, "break" meant getting his butt thrown in jail for an undetermined amount of time for a crime that he didn't know he would be connected to until it was too late.

Somehow, the way Flack was looking at him though, all that didn't seem to matter. For once, Adam felt a familiar security around the man, and the lab tech realized he had gotten the same feeling when he was first told he was going to be paired with Flack two days ago. The feeling like nothing was going to happen to him; like Flack was going to do everything to make sure no one got the chance to kill him. Emotions like these were rare to the usually nerve-wracked lab geek that was currently staring into the detective's probing gaze, and Adam realized it was a losing battle to keep it a secret any longer.

"Because I'm helping him make a weapon."

Flack blinked twice, not fully comprehending the gravity of Adam's words. "Like, a weapon-weapon? "

Adam nodded, unable to keep eye contact with the other man.

"I don't think I fully understand. How have you been helping this guy the entire time you've been working at an NYPD crime lab. I think we would've picked up on that in our background checks. From what I hear, they're a bit more thorough than that." Flack said, his brow still furrowed in confusion.

"No, it-it was a stupid formula I made in college that dealt with oscillations of waves and their affect on the pressure levels in human being's ears." Adam said remorsefully, rubbing an anxious hand across his brow, as Flack still looked utterly mystified.

"English," Flack enunciated, causing Adam to look up. "Just tell me what it is that you've done to help this guy and why."

"Well both Rob and Hal have always been into sound theories and AV equipment. I fiddled with the idea a little bit and helped Rob develop a formula for his experiment with human sound levels." Adam explained in as plain of terms he could muster.

Flack still shook his head. "So you're telling me you 'fiddled' with a hobby and out popped a revolutionary theory?"

Adam tried to hide how flattered he was at the question; this wasn't the time to be accepting compliments, especially since Flack still didn't know the half of it. "That's not important. The important thing is that Rob has the formula and I'm pretty sure he's done with the weapon that can fry a person's brain to mush if the oscillation device is executed on them."

Flack stood up. "C'mon, I've gotta call for backup."

Adam followed suit to stand up hastily but had to use Flack's arm for support since he was still dizzy from fainting. "No! We-we can't do that." Adam insisted. "Rob is a dangerous person with an even more dangerous device. The Rob I knew in college was nice and unassuming but hated people. If there are more than two people in the room with him, he could do something dangerous."

"Ok, ok, I'll trust you, Adam." Flack conceded, if only to calm the young man down some. "But you gotta promise me that if things go south in there, you get the hell out. All right?"

Adam could see things going bad the moment he and Flack arrived, but he couldn't see him just ditching things when the going got tough. No way was he just leaving, not that Flack could tell if he told a little white lie though, right?

"Sure," Adam answered in what sounded to him like the worst fib of the century.

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**A/N:** Adam is the worst fibber. So, whatchoo guys think of the chapter? Oh, no! **Wait!** Hold that thought. Press the button below this, and type your answer. Don't forget to press submit, too! Ahh, you just gave me a review and it feels _so good_!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Read, review, and repeat. Or maybe not repeat. Whatever.

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They pulled up in front of a shady warehouse near the docks, a place where most crimes liked taking place. Adam explained to Flack how Rob had confided in him that the insulation in the warehouse walls and ceiling would make an excellent studio someday.

"This has gotta be the place." Adam said, ogling the expansive wooden structure and wondering what beheld behind its massive, wood-paneled entrance.

Once Flack and Adam exited the detective's black, undercover cruiser, Flack immediately went into police mode.

"Okay, I'm going to enter in to the side while you act as a diversion from up front."

"That's always a wonderful role, but I think you mean negotiator," Adam pointed out. And Flack paused to give the other man a quizzical look. "He's my friend. I'm supposed to convince him to give it up."

"Riight, you do dat." Flack said in his sarcastic New York accent, obviously not believing the nerdier half of their pair was going to valiantly stop the sting with words alone. "And while you're talking to him, I'm going to get in position to take a shot if need be." He paused before giving the younger man a meaningful look, "And, Adam?"

Adam stopped nervously eyeing the building to turn his full attention on the taller detective. "Yeah?"

"I want you to be careful. No hero acts. If this guy's as dangerous as you say he is, I have a feeling that there's going to be a whole lotta shots fired."

"Right, I'm cool with that," Adam assured the other man in what he hoped was a confident tone of voice (he was pretty sure it didn't sound like that though). Flack simply nodded in reply and signaled to where he was walking to.

"Okay, let's go then." Flack said, but Adam seemed apprehensive. The detective laid a strong hand on his shoulder, giving Adam a leveled stare. "Look, you're going to do fine. You're braver than we give you credit for. Even without your detachable gun."

Adam grinned nervously at his own words. They sounded funny coming from the usually serious detective. "Eh heh, then what are we waiting out here for?"

After a few moments to get in position, the makeshift partners found themselves on opposite sides of the warehouse. Adam was currently trying hard not to pass out from hyperventilation. He tried to focus on the words Flack said about being brave. Flack was the bravest person he knew; all the guy's pain meds were a testament to that. If a man like Flack could say that to him, maybe there was more to Adam that he himself wasn't even seeing.

Steeling himself, Adam opened the doors just in time to find Rob screwing something on a control panel that looked to be the mechanism responsible for powering the huge tank-like weapon on the middle of the ground floor. Adam could only assume that the huge tank was the laser and was seriously wondering how such parts were made available to the public.

Crazy guys always knew how to get their hands on the good stuff.

Speaking of crazy, Adam thought to himself as Rob smirked at him with a sort of self-satisfied look in his eyes. He was obviously taking Adam's shocked expression for "awe-inspired" rather than "Rob-really-is-an-obsessive-psycho."

"So glad of you to make it, Adam, old friend. I had our old buddy Hal looking for you," Rob said, swiping a hand through his longish blond hair. Rob had evidently lost weight from the last time Adam saw him, which wasn't a good thing since the guy had only been 120 tops back in university. He now looked ten times the deranged recluse with his gaunt face and loose-fitting apparel.

"Seems like he wanted to do a bit more than 'looking' with a blade like that," Adam replied, still watching the other man with unease, thinking back to the chilling weapon Hal had been blazoning.

"Oh, Hal would never hurt you. The blade was just a precaution in case you still had the same feelings about my project like you did the last time," Rob said, his eyes sparking a bit at the still sore memory.

Adam appeared to be recounting the same memory. "Was the blade just a precaution when Hal stabbed that man to death? Or when he killed that girl?"

"They knew too much. They both saw me and him together that night and I had to make sure all the loose ends got tied up. You understand, don't you, Adam?"

Adam didn't. He was still boiling at the fact that Rob had seriously just referred to Christine as a "loose end." -As if she were just "written off" and not really killed. That's when he said those five little words that you_ really_ shouldn't say to a psycho. "God… You really are a psycho."

Something in Rob seemed to **snap** as his smirking face darkened into that of a dark frown and stony expression. "If that's how you really feel, Adam. I suppose there's no use in keeping you around for a demonstration. Might as well move you to the front of the line as a test subject."

Adam wasn't sure what Rob was talking about until the tank's barrel was shifted in his direction and the noise started pouring out in a concentrated dose towards him. The only thing he remembered was the paralyzing feeling of having his eardrums being assaulted by the worst noise he had to ever endure. It literally felt as if his skull were going to crack from just the sound alone!

After three minutes of writhing on the floor and releasing screams that couldn't be heard over the piecing noise, a great weight pushed him roughly aside, slamming him on the concrete farther away, and suddenly, instant relief.

The world was normal sounding again and the pressure in Adam's skull instantly subsided. But his stress level was still through the roof as he heard Flack's deafening screams replace his own. He turned to see the blue-eyed detective struggling on the floor, the laser pointedly tracking his every movement. Adam's eyes widened in horror when he saw Flack's bleeding ears as the sound released an increased pressure into his head.

Adam turned his head up to the overhead stair landing, seeing that Rob, the lunatic, was just cackling in the corner, enjoying the detective's foiled rescue strategy. Adam's face grew hot with fury at the man's amusement in his friend's pain. With uncharacteristic skill, Adam grabbed Flack's gun that had clattered at his feet during the fall, pointed it directly at Rob, and pulled the trigger.

Rob tumbled to the ground with a shriek that sounded like a dying Valkyrie. Totally ignoring the other man's cries that Adam had "shot his fucking leg off", Adam made his way to the control panel. Fortunately, because it was, after all, his algorithm, the lab tech was able to crack the system quite quickly, successfully shutting off the tank's sound blast.

Adam watched as the sound stopped and Flack collapsed to the floor. The sight was completely terrifying and Adam felt as if his body were drawn to the other man's like a magnet, for one second he was on the platform with the control panel and the next: he was hovering over the detective's prone form, trying relentlessly to revive the older man back into consciousness.

Finding any movement too dangerous and his pleading to be futile, Adam searched the man's trench coat he was still wearing until he found the phone. With shaky hands, he dialed the number that connected him straight to the police dispatch (there were at least some perks to having a detective's phone, even if it meant the detective was currently too unconscious to use it).

"I-uh-I really need some backup over here. I'm at…" Adam gave the correct badge number and location of the officer down because it was something he memorized just in case situations like these happened. Not that he ever expected he'd be the one to deal with them personally, but here he was. So it turned out to be time well spent.

Once he hung up, Adam was left to deal with Rob's moans from the back of the room. The psycho was probably suffering from a major GSW to his leg, potentially losing a lot of blood, but Adam's only concern was the still on the unconscious Flack. Nothing would make the detective come to and the blood still rolling out of his ears did nothing to sooth Adam's nerves.

For now, he could only wait, hope, and pray for help to come faster.

"C'mon, Adam, you've got to see the paramedics," Adam's world returned to the present and he started, turning around. When had Mac and Stella gotten here? His ears must have suffered more than he thought because the sounds of the paramedics' sirens were barely audible. Only those in close range, such as Stella, who was currently staring at him with her large, concerned eyes, were able to be heard.

"No, Flack-" Adam began, and watched to see the man who had protected him the entire way through being loaded onto the stretcher and into the back of the ambulance. Adam made to follow but Mac stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"He'll be okay. For now, focus on getting yourself checked out." Mac told him, but Adam remained unconvinced, his eyes still regarding the ambulance with sadness and regret. He wanted so badly to make sure Flack was okay, just like Flack had done for him.

"C'mon, Adam, you've got a lot of blood coming out of your ears. Please," Stella implored of him. Adam touched the side of his head and finally noticed the wetness at the nape of his neck. And all this time he had thought it was sweat.

With great reluctance, Adam allowed Stella to load him into the back of the second ambulance, not even bothering to spare a glance at the scene behind him, already knowing it would haunt his nightmares enough in the future.

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Flack awoke in a numbed daze. He looked to the right and felt like smiling at the morphine drip currently connected to his arms. It had been awhile since the pain in his ribs from the explosion wasn't bothering him, and he knew there had to be heavy drugs involved if this were the case now.

Still, the niggling thought of how he got the drip in the first place finally manifested to the point that he was now alert enough to realize he was in the hospital.

Sitting up with an uneasy hold on the side bar, Flack was now fully aware of just how he got here since the last thing he remembered was the sonic boom trip he took when he tackled Adam out of the way of the laser's sound wave blast (He really ought to think up a better name for that so he didn't end up sounding stupid in the report).

Speaking of the geek, Flack thought with an amused grin. Adam was lounged back in the chair beside his hospital bed, snoring softly. The detective reminisced on how it had been the completely opposite situation only a few days ago but focused more on waking the snoozing CSI up then the irony of situations.

"Adam," Flack said and immediately grasped his throat. Wait… Why wasn't anything coming out? Obviously, something came out because Adam started awake at some noise. And when he caught sight of a now conscious Flack, he said something with great enthusiasm, but… Flack couldn't hear any of it.

A look of realization dawned on Adam's face at what must have been a very confused look on Flack's own. Hurriedly, he searched inside the side table for a piece of paper and pencil. When Flack caught sight of what Adam was hurriedly scribbling, his heart started pounding uncontrollably.

"You're deaf… Not permanently though!" Adam wrote hastily at Flack's start. Flack calmed down some, still tense from having his entire detective career flash before his eyes. No way could he be a cop without his earsf.

He gestured with his fingers for Adam to hand the pen over. Adam obliged, giving the paper to him as well. "How are you doing?"

Adam rolled his eyes once he they landed on the neat scrawl. Figures the moment Flack would figure out he would live without serious damage, he'd turn to probing others. That guy seriously never let the detective act go. Adam was pretty sure it wasn't an act anymore though. It was probably engrained in Flack to be the cop that did it all because it was the right thing to do.

"Fine. Got some ear damage too. No biggie," Adam wrote back with a shrug.

"Casual indifference," Flack wrote with a bemused grin at Adam's actions. "Starting to sound like a real hero."

"I'll stick with being an action figure any day. Let's leave that real hero stuff to you, okay?" Adam wrote back with a laugh that Flack could see but couldn't quite hear.

A sudden realization hit Adam and he hurriedly ducked into his shoulder bag at the foot of the chair and pulled out a PSP, quickly handing it off to Flack in exchange for the notepad to write on. "No ears required, see?"

Flack nodded and smiled in thanks to the lab tech. He took the pen and paper to write something down that had been bugging him since he saw Adam again.

"I'll bet you'll be happy to get away from me now that we got the killer." Flack wrote and watched as Adam's face fell a little as he read the insinuation.

The young man looked at him with a shake of his head and hurriedly scribbled, "And miss out on all this excitement? You're just going to be stuck with me, Flack-dog."

Flack laughed at the nickname, maybe too loudly because the nurse came in and reprimanded the both of them. Not that Flack could hear either of it. Instead, he wrote a farewell to Adam, who in reply threatened his life if anything were to happen to his precious handheld device.

"I'm entrusting you with it. Don't let me down," Adam wrote and this time, Flack rolled his eyes.

After Adam left, Flack couldn't help the feeling of loneliness from biting at him. He found it hard to imagine a time when he couldn't get along with such a cool guy like Adam, but realized it had only been two days ago when he was sitting awkwardly in the car with the tech, struggling to come up with a conversation topic.

It was funny how people so opposite could find such a strong common ground. Guess it was true what they said about attraction. It made Flack happy to give people the benefit of the doubt and more reason to want to protect their lives. Just like Adam did for him…

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**A/N:** That's the stinkin' ending. Seriously, I am not proud of this chapter, but I thought I owed Kristine some sort of conclusion. I will be posting an epilogue shortly. So stay tuned! Oh, yeah, please review!


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